


Sit In Fear

by Ameliapoand



Category: BioWare - Fandom, Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Best Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Friendship, F/M, Fear, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Multi, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Rage, Responsibility, Skyhold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameliapoand/pseuds/Ameliapoand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Fem!Inquisitor's first sentencing and Lavellan is terrified. After a comical and slightly serious speech from Dorian, things start to feel all right. Cullen pops in later, caught in a web made of flirtatious humiliation... spun by, you guessed it, Dorian. Headcanon that Lavellan trusts few shems but utterly adores Dorian! Major FLUFF. </p><p>*A partial sequel to my 'Risen Again'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sit In Fear

Ellana sighed deeply, shutting her violet eyes closed in a moment’s surrender to her fatigue. These sorts of moments rarely ever happened, but when they did, there was no distracting the elf from her pessimistic moods. Ellana wordlessly proceeded to drape an arm over her face, laying the other across her stomach so that she was the picture of discontent. Truth be told, it was all very, _very_ dramatic but Dorian just couldn’t keep himself from smiling. Nor did he really want to. 

Ellana sighed once more. “Dear Dorian,” she enunciated slowly, a whiny tone perforating her bell-like voice. 

Dorian snickered almost too-happily. “Yes, my love?” 

They were in the Skyhold’s main hall, surrounded by mounds of dust and rubble and clutter that, frankly, still made their noses itch, even after all these months spent deep-cleaning the remarkable place. Large squares of sunlight seeped through the magnificent glass-paned windows far above them, which gave some sort of silent joy and comfort to the gloomy room. Ellana, however, failed to notice this soundless beauty and sunk even further into her throne, eliciting yet another smirk from the Tevinter mage before her. It was the morning she would sentence Knight-Captain Denam to his fate, and as much as Ellana had tried to delay the upcoming moment, the Inquisition was at last prepared to welcome their Inquisitor’s judgment upon the soul they'd already condemned. She had been the only one displeased by the circumstances.

“Dear Dorian,” Ellana said again, making sure to drawl on every syllable. She was sprawled sideways upon the barbed and intimidating Inquisition throne, her head and legs dangling off the arms at drastic angles that should have felt unbearable, though if Ellana noticed, she made no indication of her discomfort. 

“Kindly inform all of the Inquisitor’s lowly subjects that she is no saint and no judge. She is a young elf who wishes to be left alone to her magic and her forest animals and her heathen Tevinter companion. That is all. Yours truly, The Inquisitor.”  

Dorian stifled a laugh as her eyebrows crinkled in fresh annoyance. “Dear Dorian” was a game they played whenever Ellana was sunk in a foul mood, and it mostly consisted of her complaining in an extremely formal and message-like way. It never failed to amuse the handsome mage and he suspected that she sometimes only did it to appeal to his warped sense of humor.

He clicked his tongue at her in response and resisted the urge to twirl his elaborately groomed mustache like he frequently did when he was curious. “What? You _don’t_ want to have the sole responsibility to issue punishment to whom you want, whenever you want? If you like, I could draw up a list of those who _I_ feel deserve your alien wrath, and since I know how much you value my opinions,” he said with a sly grin tempting the corners of his mouth, “It could be useful.” 

Ellana grinned then, a wicked and mischievous gesture that brightened her partially hidden face tenfold. It was Dorian’s favorite smile of hers and a flush of satisfaction warmed his body at the sight. “Hm?” he prodded. “What do you think about that? I, for one, say we start with Mother Giselle and her nightmare-inducing _hat_. Are all revered mothers required to wear such a thing? And if so, why? I mean —” 

The Inquisitor begrudgingly wrenched the arm covering her eyes away and placed it atop the other one already on her stomach. Wide, exasperated eyes flashed to Dorian’s face as he rambled on, lingering particularly upon the laugh wrinkles that framed his upper cheekbones.  

_They were so nice,_ she thought to herself, _so lovely and striking… like little personality ornaments for his face._

— I’m not saying it would solve the world’s problems but why would you even take that chance, yes?” 

“ _These_ are the questions and concerns that plague your mind while we rescue all of Thedas?” Ellana asked lightly. 

Dorian shrugged, his eyes bright yet still a tad unfocused. “I’m just saying. Take it or leave it, lethallan.” 

Ellana smiled at the casual use of his nickname for her. She had been teaching him Elvish for weeks and after a grueling period of blasphemous remarks, he was finally catching onto the shambled language. She hummed a noncommittal tune under her breath and began untangling her long, silver hair with her fingers, despite her neck still obstinately resting upon the throne’s jagged edges. It was rare when she didn’t have her wavy curls pinned up; all of their running and darting around called for a more appropriate style that prevented her from wearing it down too much. The rhythmic touch of her fingertips felt nice upon her own head. It was a shame that no one else volunteered to give her such a scalp massage, despite the unwavering loyalty of the Inquisition’s forces. 

Dorian took a few steps towards the dais, taking notice of the hall’s chilly draft that met him along the way. “What is it that’s _really_ bothering you, Ellana?” 

His question was injected with tenderness - something that immediately made Ellana feel as if she was a bratty child who indulged in her need to parade her anger around on display. Her fingers upon her head halted, momentarily paralyzed by the sudden concern in Dorian’s voice. She looked up at him again. 

“It’s just too much power, Dorian. Too much authority. I’m not meant for this kind of responsibility so soon. I’m just an _infant_ compared to some of those who serve. Based on their experience, are they not more reliable and capable to handle these circumstances? What if I mess up and ruin everything we have worked for?” She pressed her hands to her cheeks and met the hot blush that pooled underneath the skin there. “I’m afraid. I’m not suitable for this. I think it's wrong for me to play the role of judge.” 

Dorian’s gaze hardened for just an instant and he inhaled sharply, as if he’d been punched in the gut. Ellana looked at him sideways. Was she finally about to receive a scolding for entertaining these wasteful moods? 

But it was not so. 

“Has somebody told you these ridiculous things?” he nearly growled. Tell me the truth, Ellana, so that I may set their knickers on fire the next time I see them. Bloody hell, the _gall_ of some people!” 

Ellana’s face tightened. “No one told me anything, Dorian. That’s just what I believe.” Their gazes continued to lock tensely, even stubbornly, until Dorian relented and threw his hands up in the air. 

“I figured as much. You are consistently self-deprecating, my darling, and are if nothing but consistent.” Dorian brought his hands down to rub at his eyes before closing the distance between them with several determined strides. He sank down to her level, adjusting himself so that his back was propped up against the front legs of the throne. Though Ellana still remained perpendicular to him, she was close enough to reach out and stroke the soft strands of his hair, feeling each one sift through her delicate fingers like Antivan silk. If Dorian were a cat, she thought he might have started to purr. Even so, the mage hummed out a breath in content and idly began picking at something on the floor. He inhaled to speak once more. 

“Does it not occur to you that the people of the Inquisition had a say in who they wanted to lead? If they didn’t think you qualified, then you would be at the tavern every night, drinking themselves into comas just like the rest of us. You're special, Ellana, and that is why they chose you - _you…_ not the Anchor. _You_ can do what no one else is able to. I happen to think you’re a fucking miracle, and quite frankly, I think that is what everybody else sees too.” 

Ellana said nothing for awhile, content as she was to listen to the rise and fall of Dorian’s impassioned voice. He spoke with such conviction that it was hard to doubt the sincerity behind his words, and yet, despite his reassurance, despite the golden daylight that warmed their bones, despite the feel of his hair in her hand… Ellana still felt an emptiness where her heart was supposed to be. It was like she was breathing in something other than air. It was biologically satisfying to her body, but still didn’t feel right. Alas… 

She took a quiet breath to steady herself and then shifted her head to the side so that she could the main hall displayed out in front of them, proud and powerful. Dorian was staring straight ahead even as she continued to comb through the occasional knots by his temples, though perhaps he _did_ feel her gaze on him because soon enough, he turned his face to the side, and Ellana saw his bright hazel eyes on her, pensive and questioning. She tried to smile.

“It’s not what they can see, vhenan. It’s what they _can’t_ see. I’m not wise enough to determine the fate of so many people.” 

“No?” Dorian asked curiously, lifting a dark eyebrow as he did. His steady gaze pressed for an explanation. 

Ellana swallowed thickly, unsure of how to form the right words. “I’m not. There is… a _darkness_ inside me. It’s there and I can feel it and I’m just so _angry_ all the time now. Some days it feels like I can’t even breathe because the rage burns up everything in my body and it’s all I can do not to lose myself to this terrible bloodlust!” She dropped her gaze to the floor, suddenly and wildly ashamed of her own words. “Does that make me a monster? It certainly feels like it. Surely Cassandra or Cullen would be better suited for this responsibility than I. What would they do if they found out I’m like this? That I struggle to get by a day without slaughtering everything in sight?” 

Dorian chuckled darkly. “They would probably throw you a welcoming party.” 

“Oh, thanks for that.”  

“Do you think I’m wrong?” the mage demanded evenly. “You are not alone in your venomous thoughts. Not even close. Ellana, I’m fairly certain that three quarters of this Inquisition shares your rage for various reasons alike; perhaps we are just more capable of addressing them because we’ve had years and years of practice to do so. The world is _literally_ about to end! Do these feelings make us so unreasonable? No! Cassandra… well, Cassandra is just about the angriest person I know and there’s no escaping that. As for your boyfriend,” Dorian promptly ignored the horrified expression Ellana was now wearing, “It doesn’t take much to see that he is also not immune to feelings of rage or guilt or regret - perhaps that is why he insists on being so serious all the time. Maybe he just can’t help feeling plagued by it, like you.” 

Ellana snorted, an indignant sound. “Cullen is _not_ my boyfriend.” 

“Yes, I know,” Dorian said absently, “When he is, Just make sure to invite me to the wedding or there’ll be hell to pay.” 

Ellana slapped her hand over Dorian’s mouth then and watched a scowl replace the amusement on his Tevinter features. “Sh!!” she exclaimed in a whisper. “Solas will _hear_ you, you fool, and then I’ll have to deal with him. I could not be any less in the mood for that right now so would you please be _quiet_ about me and Cullen for once!” 

Dorian made no move to displace her palm, though when his scowl deepened into a frightening mask of annoyance, Ellana moved her pale fingers to his cheek. She began tracing imaginary patterns onto his skin, and after a moment’s hesitation, Dorian found himself leaning into her touch. “Still pining after His Royal Highness, are you? I thought you had turned him down the other week after he so smoothly invited you onto _your own balcony.”_

“I did! I told him something to the effect of: the world has enough secrets and I didn’t want to live around any more than I had to. _Especially_ his. Shouldn’t people who care about each other be able to confide their worries and fears? Whatever Solas is hiding… how important could it be anyway? Kiss or no kiss, it’s just beyond what I can handle at this time,” Ellana said sullenly. “What do you think?” 

“Hear, hear,” Dorian responded, a note of pride in his voice. “I would have preferred you use a language that was a bit stronger than that, dear girl, but yes… it sounds like you were direct enough - a change, I’m sure, from the cautious indifference people usually show him.” 

“It still hurts sometimes. I wish it didn't.” 

“It’ll hurt for awhile, Ellana. Just let it hurt until it doesn’t anymore.” 

“Thank you, vhenan.” 

“Anytime, love.” 

They let the next several instances pass by in utter silence. The strange twists and turns in their conversation had left Ellana emotionally whiplashed, though, if she was being honest, a tiny shred of confidence was feeling rightfully returned to its place inside her. Dorian was also content to be quiet. He continuously allowed the Inquisitor to touch and cradle his face however she liked; he assumed the gesture to be grounding for her. It certainly didn’t feel bad on _his_ part! As the minutes ticked by, however, they found it almost odd that no one had come barreling in to disturb them… this was probably the most left alone they had ever been in all of their six months at Skyhold.  

The dawning rays of light had begun to turn a bright gold in color, and soon, the entire main hall was shimmering in the afterglow of the window’s stained-glass colors. Stray tendrils of this light eventually pooled down upon them, causing Ellana’s hair to positively shine, a beacon of silver fury in the otherwise up and coming chamber. Just beyond the massive double doors that guarded the hall, Ellana and Dorian could see the Inquisition waking up in an excited manner with soldiers, pages, and healers running back and forth to their outposts like squabbling fennecs. It was as if they were momentarily invisible, and it felt… almost _good_. 

Dorian was the first to break the spell. “It’s almost time,” he murmured quietly. “Are you ready?” 

Ellana shrugged indifferently in her widespread position on the throne. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

“Fair enough.” 

“Dorian…”  

“Hm?” 

“Before I do this,” Ellana said calmly, “Even though I’m angry a lot and have thoughts about killing people I probably shouldn’t, that doesn’t make me a horrible monster unworthy of the title ‘Inquisitor’, right?” 

Dorian grinned happily up at her, not seeing the lone individual making their way towards them from the back of the hall. “Right. It makes you a productive member of society as far as I’m concerned. Bedsides myself, no one else is perfect, so people should just stop claiming that they are for _everyone’s_ emotional welfare.” 

She pressed her palm more firmly to his cheek and giggled a charming laugh. “You could never be a monster, Dorian. With your lips and cheekbones, you’re far too pretty.” 

“ _Now_ you’re getting it!” 

The two of them erupted in a hearty laughter as a perplexed-looking Cullen neared them. When Ellana finally noticed the handsome templar bewildered and staring, she felt a serious blush rise to her porcelain face, making Dorian laugh even harder. “Commander!” Dorian managed out through a terrifying grin, “How nice to see you this glorious morning! Doesn’t the Inquisitor look downright stunning in the dawn’s early rays?” 

It was hard to tell who looked more embarrassed after that. Ellana, still frozen in her strange position of nonchalance, with her legs and head dangling off the sides of her throne, actually gasped out loud at Dorian’s question. Cullen, on the other hand, had to force his mouth shut, his bronze eyes wide and vulnerable. 

“I… erm… well…” Cullen stammered, mortified, “I think - actually… I don’t really…I……” And then, for some odd and unspoken reason, Cullen looked to _Dorian_ for reassurance. “………………… Yes?” he said, though it sounded undoubtedly like a question.  

Ellana noticed a slight movement below her body; had Dorian _nodded_ at the man?  

Though she forgot to untangle herself from her compromising position, Ellana’s slanted brows rose high upon her forehead. 

“Wait, really?” she asked incredulously. 

Dorian scoffed mockingly in response to her question, the loud sound reverberating dramatically all around them due to the fortress’ stone walls. “Of course you are, dear child!”  

Ellana frowned at his words while Dorian prepared a longer response. “Who _wouldn’t_ think you beautiful with your long, silver hair that radiates so fiercely in the sunlight, or your fair, unblemished skin, your strange, violet eyes… even the clear, feminine notes of your voice is enough to make _me_ swoon! A nearly impossible feat, if you two were wondering. I am simply curious to know if our Commander is in agreement with me is all!” 

Both Dorian and Ellana gazed attentively at Cullen then, and the towering man stumbled backwards, frantically searching either of their faces for a way out of this mortifying experience. 

“ _Maker’s breath_ ,” Cullen swore,  “What _is_ this?” He shot Ellana an extra look as if to say _help me,_ but she only smiled crookedly at him and shrugged. 

“Well, Cullen?” Dorian asked innocently, Ellana’s frozen hand still upon his cheek. “If you don’t feel the same way…” 

That only made things worse. Cullen paled instantly, leaving on his face no trace of his earlier blush. “No! No, that isn’t it at all! I just… well… I don’t understand what’s going on here Dorian, but that isn’t right either. Stop putting words in my mouth!” 

From the side, Ellana could see the beginning of a triumphant grin on Dorian’s mouth. “So you _do_ agree with me, Commander? That she looks stunning on this particular morning?” 

Cullen sighed gruffly, a defeated noise which sounded almost like a growl. “I always think the Inquisitor is striking, Dorian.” He proceeded to gaze sheepishly at the floor, though his voice remained unwavering and steady all the while he spoke. “Of course I mean that with the utmost respect, Inquisitor, but if we may _please_ move on to what I came here to tell you…” 

Dorian hummed, a satisfied tune, and suddenly sprang to his feet, only to bend back down and kiss the hand that Ellana had used to touch him. “Lovely! As I’m sure this information is far above my pay grade, I’ll leave you two alone to mingle now.”

He began stalking away from them, his triumphant grin still written all over his face. When he reached the halfway point of the main hall, however, Dorian started laughing to himself, an infectious, grin-inducing sound. 

“I’ll be back for the sentencing, Inquisitor,” he called out as he reached the entrance doors. “Oh, and Cullen, _do_ invite me to the wedding, will you?” 

It was another humiliating moment that left both Ellana and Cullen speechless. After awhile they were able to look each other in the eye again, but it felt different, as if something had passed between the two of them during those horrible, chagrinning instances Dorian had just instigated. Eventually, Ellana straightened herself out and climbed back onto her feet while Cullen watched wordlessly without interruption. And then… nothing happened. Would it _ever_ be safe to talk to each other again? 

The answer was no. 

“Inquisitor, I came here to discuss —“ 

“Do you really think I’m striking?” 

“What?” 

“Never mind.” 

They both cursed under their breaths… and smiled. 

It was good to know that they could still do that, at least. 


End file.
